


Nights in Sorgan

by Space_Samurai



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:02:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Space_Samurai/pseuds/Space_Samurai
Summary: She hears him by chance. Omera had gone out in the search for blankets when she heard the warrior being plagued by nightmares.
Relationships: The Mandalorian/Omera (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 51
Kudos: 431





	Nights in Sorgan

**Author's Note:**

> I'm loving this show! Omera was a nice character, sad we had to leave her so soon. But that's why we have fanfic for.

She wakes up during the night, the air cold. Though Winta is snuggled on her side, her little body isn't enough to keep her warm. Omera nuzzles her hair and kisses her forehead before carefully removing the arms around her and leaving their shared cot. Winta has one of her own, and she tended to start the nights there and end them on her mother's side. Omera couldn't said she was bothered by it.

The nights were chilly on their little planet. She pulled the shawl tighter around herself. She spared one more glance to her daughter and the green child, both were sleeping soundly. She kept the furs and the extra blankets in a trunk that was right outside the barn. She hoped that her steps wouldn't wake up her guest.

Just as she reached the entrance, ready to take the woolen covers, she heard it. Ragged breaths, followed by a low whine. Those sounds weren't from pleasure, and they came from inside the barn. Omera bit her lip, taking a second to decide what to do.

Little could be seen within the darkness of the barn. Omera could make out the shadows, which was more than enough as she knew the place well. Her bare foot stumbled upon something. A helmet, if its hard surface and shape were anything to go by. That made her pause. He had told her he wasn't meant to be seen by anyone without it. It would be wrong for her to step in while knowing that. Yet the pained noises convinced her otherwise.

She could barely see anything, surely, it wouldn’t count if she couldn’t make the details of his face? 

Now resolved to wake him, she kneeled by his side, doing her best to keep her eyes away from his face. Omera placed a hand on his shoulder, with the intention of shaking him lightly, and she found herself being pulled down. Her wrist ached from his harsh grip and a gasp left her throat. He held her down only for a moment, then he realized who she was and let go of her, jumping off her body.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. He went to grab his helmet, and Omera got a glimpse of his skin, illuminated by the moonlight that came through the window. He wasn’t wearing the armor. “I thought you were someone else.” His voice, now distorted by the helmet, spoke. “Is he—?” 

“Sleeping, perfectly fine.” _You were not_ , she wanted to say, but Omera kept it to herself. She wished to ask if he was alright, but it felt wrong to pry. "I came for blankets and heard you—,” she stopped herself before speaking, to spare his pride. “My husband used to be the same.” 

“Your husband?” He inquired quietly. 

“He fought in the Clone Wars, before coming to Sorgan. He was a kind man, haunted by ghosts. He was the one who taught me how to shoot, worried that the Separatists would find him here and we’d need to defend ourselves.”

“He sounds like a wise man.”

“He found peace here." _And so could you._ "It's a simple life, of hard work and fine reward."

"A good place for the little ones," he said and Omera tried to keep her hopes down. But her imagination flew. She could see him shedding away the armor, leaving it in the barn along his weapons, to raise his son. He'd build a hut of his own and help around the village. "He could be happy here."

"He'll be happy as long as he is with you. Every child needs a father." 

Omera thought that, even with the helmet covering his face and the darkness of the room, he wasn't very good at masking his emotions. Which was fine, he was no deceiver.

"I'm not the father anyone should have." He said, and Omera would have argued if he hadn't continued right away. "He won't be safe with me, because of my profession."

"You could always change your profession." She lightly suggested. "There isn't much risk in the life of a farmer." She keeps her tongue from speaking and her hand moves to find him, landing on his knee. Much to her surprise, his own hand came to rest on top of hers.

Omera wondered how long had it been since he last touched anyone with the sole intention to _feel._ She had witnessed his fondness of the boy, allowing him on his lap and carrying him as he napped. He seemed to be on friendly terms with Cara Dune, but he didn't go out his way to be overly handsy with her. Omera had a feeling that the woman's affections didn't lay there anyway.

Tentatively, she caressed his knuckles.

"I didn't see your face." Omera whispered, it felt important to let him know. "Not a glimpse of it. You told me what it meant for you, I wouldn't have come to spy on you."

"I know." He answered and relief flooded her when he squeezed her hand reassuringly. 

Omera nodded. "Good." She stared at the window, the light was starting to enter the room. Dawn had come and with it, a new day. She took a deep breath. “I’ll go to make breakfast,” she tells him, ready to leave the barn and begin her daily routine. “You are welcome to join us.” 

She doesn’t expect him to accept. “I’ll go as soon as I put my armor on.” So that meant he’d sit and watch them all eat while he ate nothing. It didn’t sit well with her. 

“The kids won’t wake up until later, I can bring something for you now, so you won’t be hungry the whole morning.” She says before leaving the barn. “Something warm.”

“Thank you.” And Omera feels he’s not thanking her for the food.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


End file.
